


fireworks

by artemris



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, character death mentioned in the archive warnings is canon, i'm sure u can work that one out yourselves, ik character death puts some people off but this isn't as bad as it sounds ok, that said it's not really described and it's more just mentioned/reflected on at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemris/pseuds/artemris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joseph Kavinsky is none of the things Adam Parrish is, but Kavinsky is <i>there</i> and, God, Ronan is sick of waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> i was thinking about ronan and kavinsky's relationship in tdt and it's always struck me as kinda 'well, kavinsky's _there_ ' and, as gay as it was, i definitely think that book could have been gayer so i wrote this on a whim lmao it's short and sweet (it's not sweet at all) and i'm not sure how i feel about it but eh
> 
> i didn't think i was gonna finish this ever let alone post it but i figured i needed something to celebrate my fave rovinsky trash rachel's exam results so here u go choufleur<33

In all his seventeen years, Ronan Lynch has never been kissed. 

He'd always set his sights on Adam Parrish. Tall, fine boned, elegant Adam Parrish. Parrish with his Henrietta drawl, his freckled features. He knows Adam curses them, feels like they're a betrayal of the roots he tries so hard to bury. 

There's something unique about Adam, something oddly curious about him. Maybe it's his soft spoken manner, complimented by his local accent, or the way his face flushes in indignation when his temper rises. His skeptical feelings about the supernatural but his desperation to believe. He's so close, yet so distant; so quiet, yet so loud. He's an enigma, and Ronan would love to figure him out. 

Joseph Kavinsky is none of the things Adam Parrish is, but Kavinsky is _there_ and, God, Ronan is sick of waiting. 

Where Adam is one extreme or the other, Kavinsky doesn't have that differentiation. Kavinsky is always too loud, too brash, _too much_. There is no middle ground, no in between, everything about him can be characterised by pure, constant adrenaline. Sometimes Ronan compares him to the drugs he takes, in his mind. A concentrated rush and a feeling of slipping, of losing control, but he's always fighting for grip. That should be enough to put him off, but for reasons he's yet to put words to, he doesn't.

He spends more time with him than he means to. His internal clock is skewed, somehow just being in Kavinsky's presence makes time an outdated concept. The nights with him all blend into one until Ronan can't tell if he's awake anymore or if he's been asleep all this time.

"I've never met anyone like me before," Ronan remarks one night, still breathless and slightly buzzed. He puts it down to the thrill of the racing and the few cans of beer they'd shotgunned after.

Kavinsky doesn't even turn his head to answer him, eyes still shut and Ronan wonders if he's still dreaming until he responds. "In which way?"

Ronan pauses, as though he's collecting his thoughts, although he already knows the answer. Still he doesn't rush to give it. He lies back on the hood of the car and lets himself focus on the feel of the smooth metal through his shirt and in the cool evening breeze against his skin, a feather-light touch raising the hairs on his arm. The first stars are beginning to show, twinkling lights amidst a pastel wash sky. Ronan wonders if Kavinsky truly wants an answer. He wonders if he really cares either way.

"Any way," he says finally. "Every way."

This time Kavinsky cracks open an eye, just enough to peer over at Ronan. His lips are parted in a small gesture that could pass for either a grin or a smirk. With Kavinsky sometimes it can be hard to tell. 

"You mean you're-?" His expression is gauging and Ronan immediately recoils. Like a viper he still looks just as deadly in a defensive position. "Fuck off," he spits and it's all he can muster.

He fails to notice the words Kavinsky leaves unsaid.

Kavinsky just smiles at him. 

"Hey, man, I didn't say there was anything wrong with it," he says, holding his hands up in his defence. 

Ronan still can't meet his eyes. He's always felt something when he was around Kavinsky; a need to prove himself perhaps, to surpass the other. "Fuck you, Kavinsky," he says this time with all the malice he can pack into those three words, but Kavinsky's already laughing.

He's not sure how they went from there to something more. It happens in an instant and neither of them stop to think about it.

Kissing Kavinsky feels like fast cars and lighter fluid, like a faint scent of smoke and a neon red warning sign. It feels like everything that Kavinsky is, wrapped in his many layers: _danger_. But Ronan would be lying if he said it didn't excite him, and Ronan never lies. 

It's a dangerous game they play. Too close; not close enough. Ronan wants to stay there forever, high on the company, high on God knows what else, high on Kavinsky. Another part of him wants to shove him away, to spit out all the nasty thoughts in his head, to cut him out of his life completely. It's a violent mess, a vicious cacophony. They're a car crash waiting to happen, but there's something masochistic in Ronan that wants to see how savage the fallout will be.

They spend more nights together than Ronan admits to anyone else. When anyone asks he tells them that it's none of their business and hurls himself further down the self-destructive path he seems intent on following. 

Kavinsky is trouble, it's written all over him, a flashing sign that warns Ronan to stay away, but there's something pleasant about the sensation of letting go. He doesn't care what he does with Kavinsky, doesn't care what he says. They exist in a void. And surprisingly, Kavinsky isn't all people make him out to be. He's impulsive, he's reckless and he's inconsiderate, just like everyone says, but there's more to him too. Enough to care about Ronan, to get him to open up, to give him parts of himself he's never shared with anyone else.

There is no long-term for them, but there's now, and that's all that matters in that moment.

The fallout comes, of course. It comes in a ball of fire and sparks in the sky on the 4th of July. It's horrifying, sickening and Ronan feels the urge to throw up when he thinks about it, but part of him thinks he already knew that this was how it would end. The two of them were fuses just waiting to be ignited. 

He doesn't get over it when everyone thinks he does. He doesn't think he'll ever get over it. There's a bitter taste in his mouth that he's not sure will ever go away and a lurch in his chest every time he catches a glimpse of white speed past. 

Every time he closes his eyes all he can see are fireworks.


End file.
